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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712888">Starcatcher; the Pirate Who Sold the World (for a bottle)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganLockheart/pseuds/MorganLockheart'>MorganLockheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Starcatcher [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:22:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganLockheart/pseuds/MorganLockheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Starcatcher [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Our hero's origins! Not so humble beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral Y’shkigal was a Vorpus, who lived on the isle of Vorpal. I say isle, but these aren’t like the isles you know. In the world of Veral Y’shkial the ground beneath you is sparse, and can only be foung in patches, all suspended in an endless sky. The ocean you and I know doesn’t exist here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Vorpus were a small minority of the many races of people. They had been pushed around, shuttled around, shown in circuses and sold into slavery. They were the world’s punching bag. But that was far in the past. Far, far in the past. A long time ago a wealthy soft hearted bozo found as many Vorpus as he could and sent them back to their homeland of Vorpal. And that’s where our story begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just because there was no ocean didn’t mean there were no pirates. Pirate raids weren’t uncommon amongst the secluded shattered isles that floated about the sky. The vastness of the Blue made it hard for any form of government to organize and govern over it, forcing them to claim any land they could simply spread to, and not collaborate with others regularly. This issue only made pirates, and other undesirable sorts more likely to raid small islands like the island of Vorpal. After all there was no one to oppose them. No law enforcement for such small populations. The military had much greater troubles to attend to. So raiders went practically unopposed, with only the locals to attempt to stand up to them, or try to broker some sort of deal with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One such raid happened years ago, on that fateful day. The flags of the feared Captain Mandon Red, one of the most feared pirate captains amongst the Blue. The island was used to pirates, and could typically strike deals and bargain with the pirates in order to maintain peace and protection. But Captain Red wasn’t known for his mercy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the outskirts of the island, on the opposite side of the bay and the docs, sat a small house, with a new family residing in it. Verax and Moril Y’shkigal had been residing in that house for only a few years at the time, and their son Veral had only been born for about half that time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the center of town there was a large silver bell, standing high between two wooden pillars. A rope hangs down, installed after someone fell climbing up the poles to ring the bell. When the bells sounded, everyone knew what that meant a pirate ship approached. The two young Vorpals poked their heads out of their door, hearing screams of their townmates. Among the screams, one phrase stood out. Captain Red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amidst the destruction of the town the pirates wrought, one Miri Y’kare found a baby, crying as the house burnt down around him, and the longboat missing from its post. Brave Miri ran into the house to retrieve the baby, running him to the makeshift medic station the townsfolk had made once the pirates had left, all the island’s Bluemary in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vorpal are known for bravery and adversity. The family name of Y’shkigal was now a shamed one, one of cowardice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Vorpal are also known for their great compassion. The fires were put out, the town rebuilt, and while he had no family to take care of him, the town took in the young Veral, always looking after him. He always had a place to sleep and a table to eat at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that never stopped the young boy from feeling estranged from the people he called family, the place he called home. This caused him to act out, get into trouble. And that is where our story starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>
  <span>“Get back here you brat!” A chase had unfolded. A young man, with long, unkempt dark hair ran down the street, his loose billowy shirt stuffed with a crop, with bright blue leaves that gave off a slight glow. It was this glow that gave off the fact that the boy had taken the crop from the fields. Behind him three different farmers, still clad in their work clothes, chased after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man had a wide smile on his face, the thrill of the chase exhilarating. He threw his head back in laughter, “You’ll need to be faster than that if you want this back!” He hopped over a cart that was in the middle of the road, grabbing a bushel of yet more of the crop he had stolen from the load as he leaped. “If you’re gonna give this bad of a performance I might as well take more!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooped a rock off the ground and threw it at a stall on the side of the road. The tabletop of the stall tumbled out, and the honeymelons that were being sold there followed suit, rolling all onto the road. The farmers stumbled all over the rolling fruits, and the young man left them in the dust (literally). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducked into a side street, winding through the crumbling alleyways, until he found the house he had been looking for. It was a small shack, secluded in the alleyways where no one wanted to settle down. Purposely avoiding the door  he took a dive through the window, nearly taking the curtains out with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding onto the earthen floor the boy scrambled onto all fours and hid under the wooden table in the middle of the room, the tablecloth covering almost everything except for the tips of his toes (he hated shoes). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man who had been in the expertly carved rocking by the window grumbled under his breath, something about ‘more trouble than he’s worth’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly three breaths later there was a knock on the heavy wooden door. The old man got out of his chair, his bones creaking even more than the chair was, and answered the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-what is it now?” he barked at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to bother you sir, but we were wondering if you had seen Veral come this way?” It was the very same farmers from the streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-well no I haven’t, he doesn’t bother with the likes of me no more.” He could hear the old man cross his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well sir if-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only saved his life after all, he doesn’t need to worry about little old me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite right si-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you see him could you ask him to give me back that knife he swiped from me? I ain’t got h-nothing to cut peel my melon with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d better be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The h-melons are too hard for me to eat with the skins on!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get going” One farmer whispered to the other. He nodded and they both walked off, leaving the old man to rant to himself. </span>
</p><p><span>He closed the heavy wooden door with a loud slam. “You’d better have got enough for two batches Veral.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Veral crawled out from under the table, hitting his head as he stood up. “Can’t believe they caught me this time.” </span></p><p><span>“It was only a matter of time. I told you to quit while the quittin’ was good.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“But you so love my concoctions!” Veral elbowed the old man. </span></p><p>
  <span>“It's good for my old joints.” Veral brought out his knife, cutting the twine binding the bushel of Bluemary together. “Extra strong this time, my knees are killing me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a weird relationship that Veral and Miri had formed these past few months. A restless Veral needed trouble to get into. There wasn’t much he could steal, no one on the island paid for anything. The market was entirely open. The Bluemary crop was the island’s only source of income, being sold to some big drug company in order to make pain killers. The money the crop made was purely used for the import of essentials, like building materials, ships, and other things that could not be found on the island. The islanders all still had jobs and trades, but their crafts, wares and products were all given freely among each other, as someone always needed something from another. Good will was a necessity on the island since anyone could turn down another for any reason and the community relied on each other so much. So it made sense that the only thing worth stealing was the thing that was worth something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there wasn’t a lot that one could use raw Bluemary for. At least that was what he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral began to distill the Bluemary with the makeshift distiller that he had hidden in Miri’s floorboard. Miri was an old war veteran, so he knew a great deal more than Veral did. Veral had started to make Blueshine, a cheap liquor that could be made out of Bluemary, with Miri’s oversight. Veral needed somewhere to hide out, there weren’t a lot of hiding spots on the island. There was no liquor on the island as the Vorpal saw it as immoral. After the incident with the fire Miri’s hands were too shaky for that kind of work, and much too shaky for the woodcarving he had done in his youth. The liquor was good for his joints, the damage that his military service and the fire had wrought on his body was one that brought him pain everyday, and the liquor did a lot more for it than his medication and herbs did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was an odd symbiotic relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sound of bubbling and the light smoke filled the room Miri brought out his pipe and began to puff. Veral swiped it from the old man in one swift movement of his hand, and took a long slow puff himself as he manned the pump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miri gave a </span>
  <em>
    <span>harumph </span>
  </em>
  <span>and leaned back in his chair. “This charade won’t last forever you h-know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What charade does?” the whirring of the pump filled the room. “It’s just important that we commit to the charade as best we can before the curtain falls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bold words from someone who’s never had to face the consequences of his actions.” A voice said from the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miri sat straight up in his chair before settling back down, seeing who it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zinnia Y’keru, will you h-ever grow out of your sneaking around phase?” he took his pipe back from Varel and went to take puff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, I don’t know…” Zinnia hopped down from the window sill, “Will you ever grow out of your grumpy old man phase?” she swiped the pipe before it even touched Miri’s lips and took a deep puff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miri crossed his arms once again. “Why do I let you kids run circles around me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You love us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the two youths said mockingly in a sing-song voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zinnia had a warm bronze skin to match Veral’s (and everyone else on the island). Her long dark hair, kept in place by a silver hairclip, was much better kept than Veral’s medium unkempt hair was. However she did not share the green freckles that Veral had along his cheeks (a rare trait among Vorpal). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget to oxidize it this time. Don’t want it turning out like last time, do we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral’s nose crinkled at the memory of the sour Blueshine. “You don’t even like the stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t enable your behavior is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who found out that if you jump through the window you’ll land under the table.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was for science, not for crime.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? A criminal? Never.” He stirred the brew like a mother stirring a pot of stew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, we got a real dirty crime boy over here.” She nudged him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? You doubt me?” He cried out dramatically as he nudged her back “I’m wounded!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon get real.” She said through laughter. “We all know you're just a wannabe!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re asking for it!” He jumped on her. They began to roll around. Miri cried out to be careful around the still, but it fell on deaf ears, as the two teens continued to not act their age. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pinned his arms down. “Uncle uncle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it or you’ll stay on this floor till you wither away.” She said in a mockingly sad voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, you win, you’re a better fighter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two sat against a wall, breathing heavy. Zinnia had won the fight, again. But at least Veral didn’t resort to hair pulling this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But get real, this can’t last forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you mean?” Veral said, putting his head against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’man, this is Vorpal. Eventually this phase will pass, and you’ll need to settle down. The most exciting thing you can be here is a craftsman, and then again even that isn’t all that exciting.” she whispered the last half and nodded her head at a sleeping Miri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A phase huh? You really think I’ll grow out of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do. We’re young. Eventually we’ll grow up, and when that day comes, reality will hit us like a ton of bricks. No more swiping candy. No more sneaking behind people’s backs just for the excitement of jumping into the hay piles at night. No more playing sneaky robbers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’ll happen when we grow up huh?” He laughed devilishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral got up onto his knees and turned to face her. “It’s simple. I just won’t grow up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed at him. “Everything’s always so easy in your head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you wait and see, I’m all done growing as a person! I promise you this, one day I’ll become the best criminal there is! The best criminal there ever was! I won’t just play thief. One day, and I’ll come back, and steal you too! Before you have a chance to grow up either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept laughing. “Alright, I guess it’s a promise then. It’s up to you to keep it though, I won’t be responsible for this one.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall again. “If you’re really going to become the best criminal out there you’ll need to learn how to get out of trouble without my help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t need your help. I won’t need anyone’s help. As a criminal I’ll be self sufficient. I don’t need no one, ‘cept myself!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re so self sufficient what’s the point of coming back for me then huh? That kinda undermines the whole ‘on my own’ bit”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well in order to be the greatest thief I need to steal the most valuable treasures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zinnia turned red. “Not fair, that’s playing dirty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look you’re good at physical brawling I’m good at linguistic brawling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like all the times you talked yourself out of trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s out to get me from the start it doesn’t count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.” She settled down against the wall again. “Well Mr. expert thief, what do you want to do to start your career?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral hesitated. “...I was thinking more sweets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>
  <span>It was late when the two made it back to Zinnia’s house. It was well past sunset. They had never planned to get back this late, but the batch of Blueshine had taken longer than the three bootleggers had expected. Now they were returning home with wineskins of illegal liquor, and the strictest matron on the island was waiting at their doorstep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you’d be back by sunfall.” aunt Zatria said, blocking the doorway entirely blocking the doorway with her short yet stout figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry auntie, we lost track of time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems to me that you only ever lose track of time when this one’s around.” She whacked Veral’s head with her cane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Zatria had never liked Veral. Thought of him as a trouble maker. She was the strictest, most rule driven person on the entire island. But at the same time she was the closest thing Veral ever had to a mother. Her couch was his default place to sleep, and she was the one who made sure he had a full stomach as a kid, even if it meant that he had to sit through her dreaded hell stew every so often. He wasn’t an easy child for the community to raise, and she was the one who vouched for him at a time when even Miri said the orphan was more trouble then he was worth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what they say about the time and having fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Stew’s on the table. It’s grown cold.” Veral’s stomach churned at the thought of it. As bad as the stew was, it was much worse cold. “He knows where the blankets are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two slowly approached the table. “There’s wood that needs cutting in the morning as well. The rainy season’s starting, so if you somewhere to wring out that mop of a head of yours you’ll need to start stocking up on firewood.” It was never easy for Veral to escape from chores in this house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the two teens began to pick at their dinner aunt Zatria set herself to work at her desk. The sound of her mallet had kept Veral up for many a night. Zatria made and traded jewelry, though at this point due to her age she no longer set up her stall in the street so when she felt up to it Zinnia would man the stall. The jewelry she made was gorgeous, a vast distinction between art and artist. It wasn’t known how she made the end product look so good. Many had tried, Zinnia and Veral included. Zatria kept her techniques to herself, a distinct difference from the rest of the island where craftsmen would pass on their skills to the younger generations. Zatria still picked up and crafted her materials herself (Veral had no clue where she could find most of these gemstones and minerals on this island, heaven knows she wouldn’t ‘stoop low enough’ to get them imported). She’d made each of ‘her kids’ jewelry of their own. Veral’s wristband was a simple polished leather strap with a hardened quartz ornament, shaped like a fancy ‘V’. But Zinnia’s was a gorgeous necklace, made if silk string and lined with different gemstones; from what Veral could remember of the rant there was lapis, opal, quartz like his, and hanging at the lowest point was a carved diamond in the shape of a diagonal figure eight (once again don’t ask him how that was possible, Zatria refused to pass her craft on to either of them). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two hardly got any sleep with the constant sound of hammering ringing out all night.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning Veral tried to sneak out early in the morning, when the skies were still illuminated by the dim grey light that came before sunrise. It was the earliest that Veral had woken up in some time, but it didn’t matter, since Zatria was standing at the front door with a wood splitter in hand, barring exit from the premises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral spent the entire morning carrying logs from Yatil the lumberer’s house on the outside of town, chopping logs, and stacking logs. Had Veral known how much he would hate doing this he probably would have slept in longer to avoid it. Or tried the window instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was midday by the time the southern wall of Zatria’s house was stacked with logs, marking enough for the cold season and the end of Veral’s work day. For all this work Veral better not feel a single chill this season. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The midday sun burned down hot, making Veral somewhat appreciative that he started so early, avoiding much of the hottest portion of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral returned to the house to find Zatria working at her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wood is cut and stacked I take it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got enough wood to fuel the sun for a day.” Veral started to bolt down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s Zinnia you’re looking for you won’t find her up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time that she finished saying that Veral was already well up the stairs and on the second floor, so he had torn around in place and bolted back to the top step, peeking his head below the landing. “If I were looking for her where would I find her?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s in town. The box full of jewelry was overflowing, so I sent her to man the stall. It’s the best time of day for business.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting.” Veral mocked disinterest as he slowly made his way down the stairs. “Well I suppose I’ll be off. I fancy myself taking a stroll about town.” He said, hanging onto the open door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy a walk, eh? What strikes the mood for a stroll?” She said, slamming her mallet down on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just in a strolling mood is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I suppose there’s no harm in a stroll. Just make sure you and your - ahem- strolling mood don’t get into any trouble today. I hear rumors of a strolling mood stealing Bluemaries last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of strolling mood would do such a thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><span><br/></span> <span>As Veral approached the center of town he recalled something he said the other day. And the candy shop was on his way into town. The stars aligned, can you blame him?</span></p><p>
  <span>So long story short Veral now had two sweet cocoa candies in his pocket as he trucked his way through the streets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached the center of town, stalls lining the city streets, selling wares. Off on the other edge in his sights he saw Zinnia showing off a ring to Babel the stone mason. He did always have a love for rings. At this point he has more than he can wear on each hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking up his pace Veral was nearly in a dead sprint. Today would be like any other day to him. He would goof of with Zinnia, they’d pass the wineskin that hung off his belt when no one was looking at the jewelry, they’d fight over the two sweets weighing down his pockets, if she’s busy with a customer he might widdle something out of a chunk of wood using the knife he never did give back to Miri. He knew everyone and everyone knew him, and no matter what he pulled everyone looked out for him because they all look out for each other. He’d crash on Zatria’s couch until the rain slows down, the he’d find a comfy hay bail to crash on, and maybe every so often Zinnia will sneak out to take up space of the hay bail and they’ll count the starts together, because what else is there to do on this rock? He’ll always have something to do, someone to talk to, somewhere to lay down. He’d even stomach Zatria’s stew from hell, because at least those calories were as certain as sunrise. As much as Veral whined and wished to be off this rock, he loved the time he spent here and wouldn’t give it up for anything. Someday he’ll be ready to go on his adventure, and he’ll dip over the horizon with the setting sun, sailing on the winds of the blue sky, reaching through the clouds and to the stars. But until then he and Zinnia can goof off until he’s ready for that kind of adventure, and Miri can enable those fleeting fancies of gentleman’s crime until then and Zatria can yell at him until the cows come home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he begins to go into a dead sprint the sound of the silver bell rings out, splitting everyone’s ears. The first time that bell’s sounded since Veral’s infancy, that fateful day, that fateful fire that set things into motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound causes him to stop dead in his tracks. For all his dreams of adventure, for all his boisterous bold bravery he boasts of, in that moment Veral was stuck, frozen in time. Out of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t move when he saw the pirates trudge up the hill, or stroll into the town, or even when two pirates approached him, demanding any valuables he had on them. He didn’t move when they laughed as he showed them the sweets he had in his pockets. He didn’t move as they walked away, still laughing about the petrified baby boy who had offered them his candy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he sure as hell moved when he looked past the and saw the posture of a broad shouldered man walking with the rest of the pirates back to the ship, in his big meaty mitt he clutched an ornate necklace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found that dead sprint he had lost only moments before as he bolted for the docs and the airship tethered to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he ran past Zinnia outraged, being held back by the large Babel as to not do anything to make the pirates angry, Veral considered going to her. Consoling her (though honestly he probably needed to be consoled more than her). To simply talk to her. But he knew, Babel would likely hold him back too. And despite the high tide of emotions rising to a fever pitch within him, he knew that Babel, large and built from his days of hauling boulders, would never let go of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he continued his dead sprint to the airship, the solar sails glistening in the midday sun. He bolted down the hill toward the docs, sliding to a stop when he came to the docs, only a good few feet from the pirates before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop!” They did so, as if commanded, though Veral knew they only did so out of humor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” The stone man turned to face him, a smile on his face. It's not every day a spunky youth stands up to pirates. “And what can I do for you, lad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need that necklace back.” Veral stuttered out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? This one?” He held out Zinnia’s necklace, the diamond glimmering in as the sun hit it just right. The other pirates simply laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I can’t just give back loot I’ve just looted my boy.” The other pirates were getting a kick out of this. “But I suppose, as a man of business myself, I can strike up a bargain. If you have something of equal worth, we’ll make a trade.” He took off his three pointed hat, putting it to his chest. “On my honor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I” Veral scrambled about his person, looking for anything. The pirates had already rejected the candy. He had Miri’s knife, and as ornate as Miri had carved it, it wasn’t anywhere near good enough to trade. He had Miri’s pipe on him as well, but once again a nicely carved item won’t cut it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his hand hit the wineskin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-here.” He held the wineskin out. “I-it’s Blueshine. That’s what I call it. It’s a liquor made out of the Bluemaries we grow here. They make a strong painkiller.” His hand trembled, and he could feel the liquor slosh around in the wineskin and his hand shook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no need for a single wineskin of bootleg alcohol. And I’m well aware that those plants aren’t ready for harvest, not until the end of the wet season. You have nothing to offer me boy.” With that the captain turned to board his ship and leave him and the offer behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral let go of the wineskin, and it fell back to his hip, still suspended by the twine. He can’t just let them get away. That necklace it meant so much to Zinnia. And he can’t turn back now. He can’t just let himself be a coward who allowed thugs to take something important to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t let you go!” He drew Miri’s knife, and spread his legs more, trying to widen his base. He had maybe two sessions of combat training from Miri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The boy has drawn a knife on me?” The captain laughed. “Consider yourself lucky I’m in a humorous mood today boy. You have some spunk I’ll give you that.” He held the necklace up to his eye level. “You want this back so bad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An illness of the Blue wiped out a third of my crew some time ago. Including our cabin boy. The deck has grown with grime from our boots. And with your youth there is sure to be room to grow. You join my crew, I’ll give this back right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- join you?” He thought about it. He can’t let them take that necklace away, but for them to take him away? To never see any of the people who he grew up with, who had raised him, ever again. Was there a chance he could come back to visit? He doubted a cabin boy was important enough to ask for something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hesitate? I thought this was important to you.” The stone man barked. “I’ll even sweeten the deal. You join us, we never set out boots down on this shore again. Your friends will not need to be afraid of us ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir you can’t seriously-” a crewmate on the captain’s left interjected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense, of course I can! Besides, we have three other sources of Bluemary, and we already have established deals with those clients. The loss of this one will hardly put a dent in our profits.” The man eyed Veral again. “I want to see how far this one will go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral thought about it. There hadn’t been a single pirate showing in nearly 16 years. It would be selfish of him to decline this deal. The livelihoods of his people were far more important than his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never come here again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have my word.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral looked down at his bare feet. What choice did he have? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Atta boy. Take him down to the hold, I’ll be there in a moment. Raise anchor!” In the span of half a breath the captain had his back to Veral and was on the ship, barking orders. He had thrown the necklace at a pirate and waved his hand, gesturing to return it to its owner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two pirates grabbed Veral by the shoulders and picked him up, hauling Veral,</span>
</p><p>
  <span> and descending down a staircase deep into the airship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veral was forced onto his knees. He was so close to the ground that he could, in fact, see that there was a build up of grime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear the engines rev and blast, and felt the lurch of the ship beneath him as the ship began to sail away from his home. He felt sick to his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like it had been hours by the time that the captain descended down those metal steps. He gestured to the pirates to let him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain threw a mop and bucket down at him, scattering onto the floor before him. “Get acquainted with the ship and start cleaning. Do your job and you’ll live. Get on my good graces and you might do something more than scrubbing floors.” He was much less friendly than he had been before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to go, but hesitated. He turned to face Veral again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was your name lad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V-” But Veral couldn’t spit it out. His name felt like sand in his mouth. Veral Y’shkigal. The name of the boy who stood by while others invaded his home. Veral Y’shkigal, the name of a boy left by his parents. Veral Y’shkigal the name of a coward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship tilted to one side and a barrel of booze rolled across the floor. Veral tried to make out what was printed on it. Veral was fluent in Vorpex, the language of his people, but few others used that language. He could speak basic well enough, the language most people used. But he couldn’t read basic very well. What little he learned was from an old man who had travelled to Vorpal years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between you and me, reader, the barrel read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Muertan Liquor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a very common type of rum. It can be found on nearly every shattered isle in the Blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked up at the captain and told him “My name is Morgan Lockheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain laughed with his stomach. “Well Morgan Lockheart, I’m Captain Sone Pierce, and welcome to my crew!” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Starting Over Again! The Man Who Stole the Stars From the Sky, The Great Captain Morgan!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan awoke from his not so peaceful slumber, a massive pain resonating in his skull, as if an overeager percussionist had taken up residence in his head, rent free. And they were bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor was hard beneath him, made of shoddy and uneven stone brick, the edges, corners and vertices of which were digging into his back. He had been laying there long enough for the brick flooring to leave lines in the flesh on his back, making him look like a finished jigsaw puzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan opened his eyes to the world, regretting it the moment the dim light overwhelmed his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A drop of water hit Morgan’s forehead. The ceiling above him was made from the very same material as the floor beneath him, moisture clinging to the surface and sliding off in the form of water drops, periodically making noise when they hit the floor. There was moss growing between the bricks. The green added a splash of color to the otherwise dull room. The room was dimly lit by singular candles suspended on the walls. The room he was in was small, enclosed by solid iron bars. Outside of the bars Morgan could see an old wooden table with two figures sitting at it, though his eyes were still too fresh to see anything about them in detail. Past them was a staircase ingrained into the walls, leading up to the outside world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t place where he was, but this absolutely was not where Captain Morgan had fallen asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The years had not been kind to our dear hero. The overconfidence that had driven his desire for adventure in his youth had become a sort of poison in his adulthood. Overconfidence combined with overabundant success often breeds a toxic complacency of which Captain Morgan was not exempt. His overflowing success had led to the overindulgence of luxuries not offered in childhood, food the likes of which dulled his physique and swelled his abdomen, and drink the likes of which dulled his mind bred the malcontent simmering in its depths. His complacency and assumption of immutable status quo had led to much more than his now bulbous stomach. His once messy yet endearing hair had long since grown out, and at one time Morgan had taken pride in the way he dreaded his hair like the strong men he’d so looked up to on the isle of Vorpal. But it has now been a long time since stopped caring about his physical appearance, and his hair might have suffered the most, as he took care of it less and less frequently. His beard was untrimmed, uneven, and worst of all damp with the liquids his mouth did not catch and full of the crumbs he brushed off his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet a far worse fate had come of his mental state than his physical one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan began to prop himself up, attempting to get up into a sitting position, his joints squeaking as if in need of oil as he did so. The contents of his gut sloshed around as he did so. His beard was matted to his face from sleeping on his side, and he had hair in his otherwise very dry mouth. His long hair fell over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I bother one of you gents for a glass of water?” His head was throbbing. He had apparently at some point broken out into a cold sweat while he was asleep as his leather pants and jacket were very stuck to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prisoners don’t get water!” One of them barked at Morgan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point Morgan’s eyesight had begun to clear, and he could see the two guards better. One of them, the one who had just yelled at Morgan in that shrill voice, was a slim Flapperjack. Flapperjacks are small, leathery chiropteric creatures, with thin, veiny, leathery wings. Most Flapperjacks can’t really fly on their small wings anymore, but their slight builds allow their wings to be used for short periods of time, allowing them to hover in place or over gaps. But this Flapperjack in front of him is noticeably smaller than others Morgan had seen before, and his wings still seemed too small and weak to carry his weight. He had the trademark small and beady eyes that never failed to creep Morgan out. His hands were so small, his fingers so short, Morgan wondered if there was a weapon that small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The other guard was a large and beefy Quadricept. Morgan was familiar with Quadricepts. They made great crew members. Their four large arms were great for hauling cargo, and made them ideal for brawling. And the best part is that they nearly never question orders. Quadriceps were all naturally quite large, with orange skin and yellow eyes. Though rumors float around of their aggression, Morgan has never met a sweeter creature. This one was large too, but unlike most of the Quadriceps Morgan had known he was a good deal chunkier. He looked to be the type that never missed a meal.</span>
</p><p><span>“So I’m in a prison then?” Morgan flicked the bars in front of him.</span><span><br/></span> <span>“The bars didn’t give it away?” The larger one asked. His voice was deep, yet uncharacteristically soft. </span></p><p>
  <span>“I’ve slept with people with more ambition than this.” Morgan smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ambition?” The Quadricept wore a confused expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well lad, some people like thi-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t talk to the prisoner!” The other one screeched. “He’ll get into your head. Crafty, these pirates are.” He looked down at the cards in his hand and threw them down on the table before crossing his arms. It would appear that he folded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thank you very much.” Morgan replied genuinely. The beefy lad scooped up all the poker chips on the table, and pulled them towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A prison cell, eh? And- if you don’t mind me asking that is- erm- how, exactly, did I get here?” Morgan asked, leaning against the bars as he put his arm through the bars up to his shoulder. He reached for the small wooden cup that was close to the edge of the table. The small one smacked his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prisoners don’t get water! And we caught you of course! Ronnie and Clyde, best guards in all of Rogueport, single handedly caught the great Captain Morgan! Huh? Damn.” He folded again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rogueport?” Morgan whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That ain’t true Ronnie.” The large one, Clyde, butted in. “We didn’t do nothin, ‘cept find him. Did you bump your head? We found him on the shoreline in a lifeboat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronnie waved his hands at him, making a </span>
  <em>
    <span>spspsdppspspsp </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound. “Remember what we talked about. When the Inquisitor comes we need to tell him we did it ourselves. The promotions, remember?” The Flapperjack, Ronnie, said in a loud hushed voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inquisitor?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I kinda like our job Ronnie. Nothin’ ever happens, and we get to sit around and play cards all day.” Clyde threw a chip into the betting pile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just it Clyde, nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> happens! I got into this job for greatness, to be a hero!” He struck a pose, and stretched his rather embarrassingly small wings as he flexed his embarrassingly small muscles. He looked down at his hand, and gave out a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see the cards lad.” Morgan reached out. Ronnie tilted his hand to let Morgan see it. “Turn those two in and draw two more. Don’t bet any higher.” Ronnie did just that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna be a hero Ronnie, I just want a paycheck to put meals on the table. Bein’ a hero sounds like a lot of work.” The two revealed their hands, and Ronnie ended up going even with his last bet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always think with your stomach Clyde.” Clyde put his hand on his stomach and looked at it suspiciously. “Pirates are on the decline, Clyde. The government has been cracking down on them, enlisting more Enforcers, it’s now or never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronnie anted up, doubling the pot with a losing hand, obviously not taking Morgan’s advice to heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I feel like I might get a little homesick if I were an Enforcer, Ronnie.” Clyde said, moreso thinking to himself than conveying a message to his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Homesick? Of Rogueport? Don’t make me laugh!” Ronnie said, despite not looking like he was about to laugh at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘sides, don’t Enforcers need to get through training? I don’t think I could make it through no obstacle course Ronnie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now, have a little self-confidence.” A foreign voice said, as a cloaked figure walked down the staircase behind the two guards. “Sure it might be a little hard at first, but I’m sure that with a little encouragement you’ll shape up in no time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronnie stood up quickly, knocking over his chair as he did so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, citizens need to be screened before visiting the cells,” Clyde said wholeheartedly. He genuinely thought that this mysterious figure had gone down the staircase on mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clyde, she’s here to spring the prisoner!” Ronnie barked at Clyde. Clyde gasped, getting up to join Ronnie and also knocking over his chair in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can even help you out, give you a head start.” The robed woman offered. Ronnie swung his baton at her, but she simply dodged out of the way, landing on top of the baton itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a bad swing but a little misdirected.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde took out his own baton and took a swing at her. She flipped over him and swept his feet out from under him causing him to fall, bumping the table as he went down hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table shook, and the water cup wobbled around. It edged closer to the edge of the table, nearer and nearer to Morgan’s outstretched grasp. His fingers barely grazed the wooden cup as he swiped for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your center of balance is way off, they won’t let you forget that at Enforcer Boot Camp.” The woman was obviously having too much fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronnie came forward, blindly swinging crazily at the air, hoping that one of the blows would hit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just took a single step to the left, and let Ronnie trip over Clyde’s unconscious body, falling onto the wooden table and knocking it over completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan felt the cup in his grasp as it flew off the table only for it to slip from his fingertips and hurdle towards the floor where the water contained within splattered all over the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then again, maybe the obstacle course is a bit too much for you.” She gave a disdainful look towards the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat, you’ve made a mess everywhere!” Morgan exclaimed, gesturing at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if that’s what you care about.” She said as she approached the caged captain. She reached to her hip and brought out a full waterskin, tossing it at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught it, fumbling it around. “A lifesaver, truly.” He tipped the capless waterskin to her, and then proceeded to drink. His mouth, that once felt so similar to a bundle of cotton in the desert, was now revitalized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cloaked woman put down her hood, her gloved hands dripping the edges of the thin fabric the hood was made out of. Her bright grey eyes stood out in the dimly lit room. Her deep black mop of short hair stood out against her pale skin. She had a single crooked fang on the right side of her mouth. There were dark circles around her eyes, leading Morgan to believe that she hadn’t gotten a decent sleep in some time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I doing all the way out at Rogueport? That’s weeks away from our heading.” Morgan asked once he had to come up for air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t remember a thing?” Morgan shook his head, and Natalia sighed, “Well captain, your crew got tired of being laughing stocks, and threw you overboard. You were lucky they had the courtesy to throw you into a boat first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mutiny?” Morgan threw down the now empty waterskin! “Aboard my ship? I’ll have your head for this Natalia Black, you hear me good! I may have had a rough night but your life will be rough by the time I’m finished with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia looked at him with reproach, equally as outraged as her captain. “Me? You think I lead the mutiny? And it wasn’t ‘a night’ Morgan, that was three days ago. I have been looking for you for three entire days!” She was clenching her fists. “And I’ve wasted those days.” Natalia turned around to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natalia, wait!” Morgan reached out for her through the bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wasted a lot more than three days on your Morgan Lockheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natalia!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped dead in her tracks, at the foot of the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you waste so much time? Why bother with me at all in the first place?” Morgan’s tone had changed drastically. His hand was still outstretched, but hung limp from his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia hesitated. “I told you I would go to the ends of the Blue for you captain.” She sighed, looking down now, “that feels like so long ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been years.” Morgan added. “It feels longer than that.” The sound of a water droplet hitting the floor echoed throughout the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan turned around, no longer facing her, and leaned up against the bars. “Go ahead and leave then.” He said sadly, “I’ve already wasted enough of your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia approached the cell again, and sat down on the floor, opposite of Morgan on the other side of the bars. They now sat, with their knees up to their faces, back to back on either side of the bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant it too,” Her voice was as soft as his now, “no one knows how far out the Blue stretches, and what’s at the end. And there I was, swearing I would sail to the edge if you asked me to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And would you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I would’ve.” She chuckled “No matter what dangers faced me, I would have stayed by your side through thick and thin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a lot of thick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it didn’t matter how rough things got, because at the end of the day we would sit by the campfire, as a crew, mugs in hand, and sing our hearts out. In all my years as Captain Black I never had those moments that made a crew feel like a family. And those moments made it all worth it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan remembered it well. When his crew was small, and his name unknown. Things weren’t easy, that’s for certain. But as long as they all had each other there wasn’t anything they couldn’t get out of. “Things haven’t been like that in a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“2 years and 8 months, a week and two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You counted?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was there for each and every day that you spiraled down deeper and deeper into this state of madness. I sat there and watched as success made an ass of you. You traded the campfires for bathtubs full of jewels, traded the mugs of rum for ancient wine, traded the company of your own crew for hired love. You thought you were invincible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I told everyone I was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told everyone at the top of your lungs. That you were invincible, unstoppable. You had things planned and we were too stupid to see it, so we needed to stop complaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When a man thinks himself invincible is the precise moment when he’s climbed to the highest he can fall,” He recited, “you told me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprised you remember it. You were drunk the first time I tried to talk sense into you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two sat in silence for a minute, listening to the sound of the damp “How did you get here?” Morgan asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to stop them from throwing you off.” she sighed. “They tied me up. After they threw you they told me I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. Apparently they were gonna name me captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re overqualified if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently I thought so too, seeing as I declined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good riddance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For once we agree. They gave me an ultimatum. Join them or follow you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made the wrong decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong no, stupid yes. They were at the very least kind enough to let me step into a boat instead of throwing me in one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish they’d extended that same kindness to me.” he chuckled, “I refuse to believe you simply left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I took the ship down with me. The flames were beautiful from far away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We spent a fortune on that ship.”</span>
</p><p><span>“You sold the one we built together by hand. I’d call it even.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>He breathed in sharply through his teeth. “Touche.” There was an uncomfortable silence in the room once again.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m almost afraid to ask…” Morgan started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already behind bars, there isn’t much else I can do to you if I dislike the question, so ask away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you still follow me to the edge of the Blue?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two sat in silence. Neither one dared to break it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan took off his hat, a simple tricorn hat. “You remember when you gave me this hat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stole it if I remember correctly.”</span>
</p><p><span>“You were in a cell back then.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Oh how tables like to turn.” </span></p><p>
  <span>“You remember what you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...no, I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That hat’s great if you want to play pirate, so play away.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like I’ve been playing pirate for a while. I don’t think I can do anything other than play. I’ve forgotten how. And I don’t think I can do anything but pretend without you. I’ve always needed you, and now is no exception. I’m not asking you to stay beside me, but if you aren’t going to then don’t unlock this cage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t respond to him, he was met with silence. A moment later he heard the sound of metal on metal, and the door gave out from behind him. He fell hard, onto his back on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia looked down on him, smirking. “You aren’t getting out of it that easy, you have a lot to make up for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natalia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m already here, might as well go all in.” She dropped the deck of cards on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She began to walk off and Morgan started to get up to follow her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Captain, to answer your question,” She looked back at him, “I wouldn’t go to the end of the Blue for you.” Morgan’s smile dropped. “I’d go to the ends of the Blue with you.” </span>
</p><p>
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  <span>The sun outside the jail was bright, brighter than Morgan could handle. He shielded his eyes from the harsh rays of light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been a while since you’ve been in the light of day?” Natalia asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess it has.” It hadn’t felt like Morgan had been in that dark, dank cell for that long, but his eyes’ reaction to the harsh sun said otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two began to walk up the stone staircase, up to street level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it too much to assume you have a plan?” Natalia asked, following behind him up the stairs, her steps much swifter and softer than his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve lost everything.”</span>
</p><p><span>“As I mentioned.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“So it stands to reason that the first order of business is to get back what we’ve lost. To a reasonable extent at least.” Morgan said, matter of factly.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Good sentiment, how do you aim to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two walked down the busy street now, weaving through people, Morgan’s unkempt hair blowing in the wind the cars made as they passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in the outer ring of Rogueport. Rogueport was a tiered city, its lowest points on on the outside of the floating island and the highest point in the center. The farther in you go the higher you go, and the quality of living and the wealth follows suit. In the lowest points, the two are surrounded by low income areas, shady alleys and industrial zones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the two walk by a fruit stand Natalia, in one swift and unseeable hand movement, swipes two gi fruit from a street side fruit stand. She tosses one to Morgan around her back and takes a bite out of her own, the juices from the nearly entirely liquid fruit splashing out from the first bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan fumbles around with his, nearly dropping it. He brushes it off against his disgusting jacket. “It’s simple. We get someone else to do it for us.” he says, speaking with his pointer finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, it’s so simple,” Natalia chuckles, mocking him, “we just have someone else do everything for us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I thought it was a great idea.” Morgan scowls, juice dripping down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What made you think I would entertain the idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious! We just have someone else set everything else up for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who, praytell, would do that? Who has those kinds of resources?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat. We’re in Rogueport.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>Towards the center of the city there is a particularly large estate. This on its own wouldn’t be peculiar. After all, there were plenty of wealthy people who own estates in the central district of Rogueport. Some live there part time, as a secondary home to show off their exorbitant wealth. Others live there when they aren’t living somewhere closer to their businesses. Most were wealthy businessmen, with very questionable business practices, but nearly all have legitimate businesses. Other than this one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peculiar estate we’re going to belongs to one Peaele Der Virman. Virman is a Birman, a partially amphibious creature, that to you would resemble a frog. Standing at three feet tall, Birmans are not typically known for such things as money, influence, power or infamy. Most Birman are more focused on their small villages and settlements. Not this Birman though. He is different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peaele Der Virman made a name for himself selling bootleg liquors in areas where it was otherwise outlawed. Of course this was his startup money. The money he made from his bootleg cocktails would later be invested into his arms and drug trades, which are now his biggest butter winners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peaele Der Virman has some odd friends. He is on close terms with nobles, CEOs and government officials. But he’s also very invested in the transblue underworld. He is on a first name basis with every gang leader, and all 12 of the pirate lords (Captain Morgan and former Captain Natalia included). While the blue fears the name Peaele Der Virman anyone who is even remotely close to him would be caught dead saying anything other than-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fodder!” Morgan says walking into the ballroom of Peaele Der Virman’s manor. Natalia follows closely behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgan, my little seadog! And Natalia, the dagger that pierces my heart when I think about her! What a splendid occasion you have decided to visit upon!” The Birman says with a thick accent. Peaele Der Virman has a close bond with the two of them being that they are all people that are dangerous, and are also all from species that are often not taken seriously, especially in the business and under world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see. Quite the crowd you’ve gathered here. What could ever be the occasion.” Morgan says in a tone that could be deciphered as sarcastic if for whatever reason he were to get in trouble for forgetting the occasion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two tower over the Virman by at least a good 4 feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why Morgan Lockheart, it is my daughter’s laggenfre! She becomes a woman today.” Peaele Der Virman says, pulling his daughter from a nearby chatting crowd to show her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His young daughter is a head shorter than he is, and distinctively has less warts than her father. She wears a simple white dress for the occasion and her hair has been tied back into a formal bun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Fodder, how could I ever forget. It isn’t every day one’s daughter becomes a woman is it? And such an exquisite one at that! The very image of beauty.” Morgan takes a deep bow towards her, and she blushes and giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say, why don’t you take her for a spin on the dance floor? It would make her laggenfre if you did. Not every young girl has the chance to dance with such a fine gentleman as yourself, and especially not a Pirate Lord at that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I could never presume to be so impudent!” Morgan says shaking his hands, backpedaling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, I insist!” Peael Der Virman grabs his hand and puts it to his daughter’s. As soon as her thin fingers are around his she pulls him onto the dancefloor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia and Peael Der Virman both chuckle at the sight of Captain Morgan dancing out of tune to the cheery music. He quite obviously doesn’t know the movements and is following her lead. It is made even more awkward that in order to dance with her he has to lean in and bend over, looking ridiculous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear Natalia,” the Birman now turns toward her, “it is good to see you, but don’t begin to think that I don’t know this meeting is about business.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That obvious huh?” She sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your former crew contacted me last night, saying they had a shipment of illegal arms they had ‘accidently stumbled onto’ that they wanted to sell to me. Obviously I refused, I can’t go getting on the bad side of a Pirate Lord, and Morgan is like a son to me. A son I would kill if  I needed to, but still a son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia chuckles. “It feels like only yesterday that Morgan and I made that same call to you. From a payphone with the two silvers we had to our name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How young you both were. Well, I suppose he was the young one, you had only just… I did so prefer when you were a Pirate Lord. So much nicer than those who sit at that table now. The lack of taste they all lack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I preferred it that way too. But I have to say, I get a lot more fulfillment travelling with this one.” She gestures to Morgan as he accidentally steps on the girl’s foot, causing the young Birman to yelp out in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. But back to the reason you’re here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course Fodder. We seem to be without a ship or crew. We were hoping that with all of your resources you might be able to get us a kickstart in the right direction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. My children do all come to me when they need something… but who am I to refuse my childrens’ pleas for help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fodder, we are indebted to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My child, you always have been. This isn’t my first favor for you, and I doubt it will be the last. All I ask in return is that I always remain your primary buyer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always have been, no reason to stray from tradition now.” Natalia grabs a glass of champagne off the platter of a nearby attendant, and holds it out as an offer to clink his glass to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who am I to say no to that!” They cheers before taking deep swigs of their drinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song had finally come to an end, and an out of breath Morgan once again joined the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see my daughter has tired you out Captain.” Peael Der Virman laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is quite energetic.” Morgan put his hands to his knees. “And she has quite the footwork.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one can keep up with that daughter of mine. Come, smoke with me!” Peael Der Virman pulls out his long smoke pipe from his coat pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan pulled out his own pipe, long and ornately carved, made by a certain dedicated Vorpal craftsman and veteran what feels like so long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smoked from Peael Der Virman’s personal collection of potable herbs, a rather rich blend that Morgan nearly wasn’t able to handle. Natalia brought out her own pipe and joined the two, a cloud of smoke rising to the ceiling above them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now Morgan, my boy,” Peael Der Virman began, “I weep for you child, your predicament is tragic,” he took a long inhale from his pipe, “but I can’t exactly hand everything to you on a platter,” he looked off in the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fodder, with all due respect,” Morgan started cautiously. To argue with such a powerful figure as Peael Der Virman was to wade into dangerous waters. “Surely my position as Pirate Lord is enough to secure me this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have much respect for you and your peers on the council, but I don’t serve under the Pirate Lords.” the old Birman sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan looked down at his own feet as he nibbled on the mouthpiece of his pipe (a bad habit that Miri had disciplined him for many times, to no avail). This would complicate things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot do so much, even for a Pirate Lord. But for my own child I can.” Peael Der Virman croaked cheerfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly? I will forever be in your debt.” Morgan held his hat to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot do everything for you. After all my own resources are finite and a true pirate captain does not have everything handed to him.” Morgan nodded thoroughly, “Let us see. Today marks the first day of the new season. At exactly midday, at the Rogueport docks, a ship titled The Interceptor will be anchored. It is marked to set sail once again into the Blue an hour after midday. At midday I can assure you it will be unmanned, and entirely stocked with everything a ship needs for travel. Take it at midday on the third day of the new season. Any earlier and it’s supplies will not be loaded. Any later and it will be swarming with sailors, and eventually it will depart. You will take it at midday on the third day of the new season, and you will sail it off into the Blue and you will not look back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot thank you enough Fodder. The ship alone is too much.” Natalia shook his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peael Der Virman gripped the hand he was shaking and pulled her into an embrace, his other hand pulling Morgan in as well. “Nonsense! Nothing is too much for my own!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan began to eye a platter of champagne that a waiter was carrying. Natalia looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry to leave so soon Fodder but it is already midday on the first of the new season. We need to begin trying to build a crew to pilot the ship as soon as we can.” She took a small bow, her right hand clutching Morgan’s forearm as she pulled him down with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I understand. There’s a wide world of crimes to commit out there. Just make sure you commit one for me, eh?” His eyes twinkled. </span>
</p><p>
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  <span>“I don’t see why we couldn’t have stayed for the festivities.” Morgan whined as Natalia pulled him by his sleeve through the streets, searching for what she was looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because once you start drinking even I can’t stop you, and we only have two days to get  enough of a crew to pilot an entire ship.” She was exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve traveled just the two of us before, and we were fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not on an entire ship, a small cruiser, and even then we had a hard time getting it to our destination sometimes.” Morgan winced at the memory of a small cruiser as the two attempted to be in three places at once. </span>
</p><p><span>“Alright, I see. So where do you expect to find a crew?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Where else would you expect to find a crew of disgusting low live sailors other than right here.” She said as they finally arrived at their destination. </span></p><p>
  <span>Morgan looked up at the dingy place before them. It was a one story building, titled The Rogueport Angel, but the ‘n’ and ‘l’ neon letters had died out long ago, no longer able to light up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. Conscription. Best part of the job.” Morgan muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t enjoy having to be sold to crowds but it's the most sure fire way to get a crew.” She could tell he still wasn’t stoked about this. “And, I brought you here because I thought you would enjoy getting to do Morgan and Natalia shenanigans again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small sincere smile crawled along Morgan’s face. “I did miss our shenanigans.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natalia couldn’t help but smile either. The two truly were glad to be back as a duo once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. What were you thinking? My thought was ‘predatory real-estate salesman’.” Natalia mentioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do ‘prized hog’.” Morgan said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really changing it up over here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me, I love a little variety here and there.”</span>
</p><p><span>“You ready?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Ready as I’ll ever be.” </span></p><p>
  <span>Natalia led, pushing forcefully against the saloon doors that led into the dusty, musky tavern. With the loud ‘bang’ the doors made when they hit the walls every single bar attendee’s attention was on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strolled in, making sure her boots clicked against the wooden floor as she did. “Listen up boys, have I got the deal for you,” some of the men began to look overeager and Natalia wished she had chosen better wording, “this is your one and only chance to sail under the most legendary pirate to have ever sailed the great Blue,” and with that she pointed both hands at the doorway behind her as Morgan strolled in, as elegantly and importantly as Natalia had before him. Morgan had straightened his hat and coat out, and swept his hair back behind him in an attempt to look presentable prior to coming through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan walked in a few steps, and in two motions Natalia had swept a table right into his path, followed by a stool from the bar and a chair, forming a makeshift staircase to the tabletop. Morgan never even had to slow down as the table and stairs were there in an instance. He climbed up to the table’s surface, hands on his hips, one knee bent so his boot pointed down into the table, and his head moved to the side, in order to capture his superior side profile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the great Captain Morgan Lockheart, he who’s sailed the entire blue thrice in one night,” She was circling the table now, acting over enthusiastic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the captain who, in one single swing of his sword, decapitated three sky serpents at once! The same captain who stole a button from the coat of every government leader in one night, and not a single one of them knew until the next morning. The same captain who wrestled a great Blue Shelled Mammoth Crab to the ground with one armed behind his back, and all his fingers other than his own pinky tied to his palm.”</span>
</p><p><span>She continued to circle around the table. She paused for a moment. By now the lights would have grown dim, and the other sailors, not to be outdone, would jump in with supposed rumors they had heard about the great Captain Lockheart. But none did so now. The two of them had done this many times, and this was the first time it didn’t seem to be going their way.</span><span><br/></span> <span>“This is the great pirate captain who single handedly brought an entire fleet of Enforcer Ships down, all while only in a lifeboat. The same captain who stole the stars from the sky, simply for a light to read a map by. The Great Starcatcher, Captain Morgan!” </span></p><p>
  <span>Morgan tried a debonair half smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who amongst you is so brave as to join our merry crew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a matter of seconds the two pirates had been thrown out of the window behind the bar and into the dumpster that resided in the alley behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They landed with an OOMPH, as the soft trash braced their fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that went well,” Morgan said as he pulled an orange slice from Natalia’s hair and popped it in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s always worked before.” Natalia groaned as she put her palms to her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I recall we always staged one of our own in the crowd in order to inflate the numbers if they seemed apprehensive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew I was forgetting something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what now? Want to hit up a few more bars?”</span>
</p><p><span>“We’d have the same result. No one seems to be foolish enough to join your crew.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You want to join them?” </span></p><p>
  <span>“I prefer my odds with you, ‘Starcatcher’.” She reached her pinky finger out, from her still gloved left hand. Morgan looked at it for a second. Then he looped his own pinky finger around hers. It had been years since they had done that. Not since they had been on their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two stayed like that for some a while, fingers looped, as they stared up at the stars way above them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan began to point out starts, particularly the brightest amongst the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one do you want?” </span>
</p>
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